Ab imo pectore, Semper
by skruff
Summary: Castle AU Meeting: Castle and Kate were hospital buddies for many months both for heart issues. Kate having a weak heart, and eventually requiring risky surgery to live. Tumblr Prompt Fill – IN-PROGRESS
1. Chapter 1

_AU Meeting Castle!Fanfic_

 **A/N:** _In a world kind of around season 4 and KB is still a detective. Beckett never got shot in the heart. Montgomery is still alive but he retired so Gates is the captain...but that doesn't really matter actually._

 _Will post the full prompt at the end of the story_

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Two months. That's how long she's been in this room. The thin curtains the only barrier between herself and the moans of the people around her. Two months since she's had a good night's sleep. The constant beeping and whirring of machines, people always talking, keeping her awake. Two months since her life changed forever.

The distinct scratch of metal on metal forces Kate out of her reverie. She's half glad; being lost in her thoughts too long often initiates the breakdowns.

The nurse interjects with nondescript "Good afternoon honey. I'm just here to check on your–"

"Yes, yes I know. Geez, why do you guys repeat everything? I've been in this damn room two months." This repetition is what really gets her - being told the same thing every day. Are they trying to make her feel like she is losing her mind? She is - _was_ \- a damn NYPD Detective for crying out loud.

"I'm sorry Kate but you should know better than anyone why we do this," Kate moved her gaze to her, rather ashamed by her outburst. "Now, let us get you ready for your move."

The nurse grabs the IV stand, making sure everything is hooked up correctly and ready to go. Kate unsurprisingly rejects her proffered hand so she merely watches as she sits up on the bed.

"My…my move?"

"Yes honey, your move. Remember? You're being moved to the private ward. Get a little more space. It's a two-person room. The other fella should be arriving soon so we want to get you prepped before he gets in." The nurse speaks without looking at her, just continuing on with her duties. Hands moving swiftly, changing over files, gathering up Kate's belongings and placing them on the back of the– _oh, no way!_

"I can walk Heather, I don't need this wheelchair," she flicks her hands in disgust in the direction of the wheeled atrocity.

The nurse looks at her with disdain – _really? She isn't a damn child!_ – her arms folded over her chest, brow arched and looking over the top of her glasses, the epitome of condescension.

"Okay. _Fine_." Voiced like a child conceding to her parents. If Heather wants to treat her like a child, then she'll act like one.

"Attagirl. Maybe, if you're good on the trip up, I'll give you a lollipop."

* * *

"Thank you. Yes, that's perfect. Great! I'll see you soon. Bye." He ends the call and places the phone back in his pocket. Crouching over to pick up his Globe-Trotter suitcase (the James Bond Special Edition), a hand bracing his lower back, he lets out a grunt, the pain almost unbearable now.

"Here Richard, let me." The older red headed woman announces, exasperated. She pries the handle from his weakened fist; swatting it away as his hand reaches out, attempting to refuse her assistance. "Come on! Just let me grab your bag. I feel so helpless here!"

Castle notices the slight quaver in his mother's voice. His gaze softens as he looks into her blue eyes. He forgets how hard this must be for her. Letting go of the bag he places a hand on her slumped shoulder. She stills for a moment collecting herself, although with much less enthusiasm than the Martha Rodgers she was only a few months before.

"Mother," he sighs, a soothing quality to his voice. She covers the hand on her shoulder with her own delicate one and looks at her son with emotions witnessed too frequently nowadays. "You are not helpless. I'm so sorry you're feeling that way. Just being here with me, you are helping so very much. Your understanding of my decisions and encouragement keep me going. I need you to know that." He moves towards her, pulling his mother in for a reassuring hug.

Martha pulls back to look at him, to study his face. "You know, you're a great man. I am so lucky to have been able to raise you to be who you are today." She pats him on the back.

"Well actually, I kind of raised myself. So thank you for the compliment. What, with you off on Broadway–"

" Hey! Don't ruin my moment," she quips, flicking his ear. "But yes. I suppose _you_ did a wonderful job of growing up. _Finally_." She adds with a small smirk.

Castle raises a hand to his chest and lets out a gasp in mock indignation. "I will have you know that… "He stops, screwing up his face in thought. "… Actually no, you're probably right."

Martha lightly whacks his shoulder. "Of course I'm right darling. When will you ever learn?" Amusement is laced in her tone. She walks back, turns around to pick up the suitcase and heads over to the front door. "Make sure you've got everything you need kiddo," she utters over her shoulder.

"Yes Mother." The monotone answer leaves his mouth with the syllables drawn out in the way a child acknowledges their parent.

He turns on the spot, breathes in the loft. His home. The place he invested the royalties from publishing his first book, the table where he played the first of many poker games with his writer buddies, the office where he started his journey with Derrick Storm, his bestselling series of books, and the stairs where his life changed forever.

Remembering where he has to be, Castle treads over to his bookcase and grabs a few of his favourites. He walks into his office gazing around for a moment too long. _This isn't the time for reminiscing_ , he tells himself while picking up his laptop and placing it in the bag he left on his desk earlier, adding to it a few pens and notebooks. He fastens the bag and tosses the strap over his shoulder. Taking in a deep breath he allows himself one more glance around the room before heading for the front door.

He steps across the threshold, gently closing the door behind him. He stares at the closed door for a few seconds then follows his mother over to the open elevator. Once inside he leans against the wall sighing, calming his heart, and telling himself that this _is_ the right thing to do.

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 **A/N:** _I love to read your reviews. Good or bad. They help me become a better writer.  
_

 _Awesome cover image created by Prosemeds (Thank you bud!)_

 _Stay tuned for chapter 2!_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** _So sorry for the long delay in posting this chapter. Life can get pretty hectic. I hope you guys enjoy it!_

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On the private ward the ambiance is entirely different. The air has an improved quality, less antiseptic and more aromatic, and the seats are lush. Every surface is pristine. The nurses are unhurried and they travel purposefully – seemingly unflustered. There are vases of brilliantly colored flowers positioned tastefully on the counters and expensive pieces of art lining every wall.

It doesn't even feel like Kate is in the hospital anymore.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sudden swing of the wheelchair turning a corner and rolling through the open doorway. Admiring the opulence, Kate's eyes widen at the image before her - _how_ is her father going to pay for this?

"There you go honey, make yourself at home." The nurse speaks jovially; obviously impressed with Kate's reaction, while she busies herself with fixing up the two parallel beds and pulling the blinds open at the window. The light shines through the glass, projecting dazzling yellow rays onto the walls and flooring.

 _She actually has a view_. Kate's mood began to lift; her surroundings already brightening her disposition. Down in the general ward, several floors below, the harsh reality of life seemed worlds away. It's amazing how much natural light can transform the whole atmosphere.

Kate rises from the wheelchair, quickly remembering to grab her IV before heading over to the bed. She gracefully sits down, the softness of the quilt startling her.

"Wow," she exclaims, still reeling from the mind-blowingly luxurious room she now gets to inhabit. "I don't think my income is going to support this room. I'm also assuming my father can't afford this either." _How is her dad paying for this thing?_ _Why_ is he paying for this is the real question.

Before the nurse has a chance to pass comment, a new voice fills the room with its rich timbre.

"Oh, I'm glad you like it. It's all I could get on such short notice." A man's voice; smooth and vaguely familiar.

The nurse walks up to Kate and whispers to her as she glides past. "Maybe _he_ will know," she replies with a slight nod of her head in his direction, the corner of her mouth lifting into a smirk. She gathers her things and walks out the door, leaving Kate baffled and unable to form a coherent thought.

She didn't dare move, continuing to stare at the now empty doorway where Heather had made her swift exit. _Yeah, just leave me here with a strange man I've never met. Don't tell me anything either. Way to treat a patient in my condition_ , she thinks to herself, scoffing at this absurdity.

Kate is so deep in thought she doesn't notice the broad figure ambling towards her, the shadow he casts blocking the rays of sunlight shining through the open window. Doesn't hear his intake of breath as he attempts to speak, opening and closing his mouth, unsure of what to say. Can't see him retreat from her stiff form as he realizes that maybe startling her isn't the smartest way to introduce himself to someone who is obviously unwell.

Finally coming out of her reverie, Kate jolts her head and rapidly blinks her eyes in realization that she has been staring at nothing for…well she doesn't know how long. She turns her head slightly, angling towards the spot where the male voice originated. He isn't there. Oh, she probably imagined… – she hears the crackling of Velcro being ripped behind her – okay, maybe there _is_ someone in here.

Slowly – hopefully unnoticeably – she stands and walks over to her bag, ignoring the obvious presence in the room for the moment. She crouches down to retrieve… okay. Heather had already unpacked her belongings. Right. No more excuses - now she _has_ to turn around.

Standing up, one hand on her knee and the other on the bed, Kate braces herself. She forgets how hard these once simple movements are becoming. Grunting as she pushes up she catches a quick glance at the figure. _It that? No, it can't be._ She puts the thought on hold, intending to revisit it later.

Kate pivots on the balls of her slipper clad feet – ah, there it is! She grabs her phone from the nightstand, thumbing the screen. No new messages. _Of course not!_ She has been here two months and still cannot get out of that routine; checking her phone for new cases, leads that have popped up, killers who have been found. She misses it. Misses her job, her partners, her precinct.

Every now and then one of the boys will send her some info on the interesting (morbid as that may be) cases they have. They visit as often as possible, but she understands how hard it can be to get time off solving murders in New York. So she appreciates it when they can come, but pushes them out the door, not wanting to be a burden on the small amount of time they have off.

Clicking off her phone, she gently places it back on the nightstand and grabs a book out of her top drawer, sits herself down on the sinfully comfortable bed and begins to read. She doesn't shoot any glances towards her new companion.

.

* * *

.

Is she…is she reading? How could she not see him right next to her? He is making an awful lot of noise. Maybe she is deaf. No he didn't find that in the research he did on her. _Not deaf_. He stops moving, leaving the half unpacked bags to be sorted later. Rick gazes at her profile – quite beautiful. Long hazelnut locks, curls sitting just below her shoulder blades. The sharp slope of her nose, her teeth biting her thumb nail in concentration.

 _She's reading._

Lying back against the soft pillows with her endlessly long legs stretched out in front of her, ankles crossed, his room mate looks so comfortable, so serene, so – wait! Why _is_ she ignoring him?

"Ahem." Rick clears his throat, continuing to admire her gorgeous features. He tries again, louder this time. Still nothing. Just as he goes for it one more time he hears her voice. A beautiful serenade, just for him –

Wait, what did she say? "Hi. I'm Richard Castle um–"

"I know who you are." She says with raised eyebrows and amusement lacing her tone.

"Oh you do, huh – are you a fan?" he asks, eyes sparkling with mischief.

She rolls her eyes and looks back at her book. "Of the genre, yes," she states, not looking up. She doesn't say anything else.

"So you know me… obviously. Now what may I call you?"

"I'm Kate." Castle hums in acknowledgement. She directs her eyes back towards her book. Immersing herself in…well, he's not quite sure what.

"What are you reading?" Displeased with yet another interruption, she flicks the cover up so he can see; _Emma_

"Jane Austen fan are we?"

"Uh no. Not really. This was all they had here to borrow." She doesn't look at him, only continues to peruse her book.

He leaves it at that. _For the moment_. Gives himself some time to think of his next question.

"How long had you been cooped up in that hell hole of a ward downstairs?" His face contorts just thinking about having to share a room with other sick people. "Hopefully not too long?"

This time she does raise her head to look at him. Face still neutral she answers calmly, "About two months. It really wasn't that bad," No, definitely not bad; very calming listening to the chorus of beeping machines, patients coughing and moaning. Wonderful being woken up every hour by the swish and screech of curtain rungs scraping on metal rods. But he doesn't need to know that.

Realizing she isn't planning to say more Rick poses his next inquiry.

Sheepishly he prompts. "So…what are we going to do about the bathroom?"

 _That_ gets her attention. "What do you mean?" her face scrunches up in confusion.

"I mean, there is only one bathroom in here. Do you want to have a schedule or something?" He is being cautious. Still trying to figure her out.

Her head tilts to the side giving him an 'are you serious?' look "We don't need a schedule. I just came from a room where I shared a bathroom with four other people. I don't think two of us is going to be a problem."

He lets out a short huff of laughter, "Ah yes. Point taken," he then settles back into his pillows, letting her have some peace.

This time, she talks first "So, uh. You haven't published any books in a while… the last Derrick Storm was released about four years ago now, right?" She is looking right at him, studying his face, waiting for a reaction. A reaction she doesn't miss.

He appears resigned.

"I well, just lost the inspiration. Writer's block got me bad." That is all he says. The whole time his eyes strangely vacant and unseeing.

"So why kill off your main character?" She doesn't understand why, if he didn't have ideas for a new story, he would end his most popular series. When writers finish one thing, isn't it because they have another ready to move on to?

"I was bored of him. No more surprises. I always knew exactly what would happen next. I felt like I knew Derrick Storm even better than myself."

Oh. _It was boredom_. He didn't _want_ to write about Storm anymore. But was it really just that simple?

She knows she probably has no right to bring this up but curiosity gets the better of her. "Haven't seen you on page six much lately." He seems nothing at all like the playboy persona he is portrayed as being in the media.

Castle takes a deep breath. Preparing to give her his well thought out response trying not to give too much away. "Change happens. I arrived at a crossroads and chose my own path. I didn't want my life to be a published book. I wanted to become the author of my own story and to do that, I needed to take the pen out of everyone else's hands."

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 **A/N:** _Will try to update quicker next time. Thank you for reading.  
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